


Life Debt Number What?

by littleblackbow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:44:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackbow/pseuds/littleblackbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry saves Draco's life again. It's becoming quite a habit. This time, however, there's actually a chance that Draco can pay him back using the beltane rituals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Debt Number What?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Frayach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frayach/gifts).



Title: Life Debt Number What? For ￼frayach.  
Author/Artist: ￼chibitoaster  
Pairing/Threesome: Harry/Draco  
Rating: NC-17 (fic), PG (art)  
Warnings: mansex, but that's kind of a given. otherwise, none.  
Word count: 6700+  
Summary: Harry saves Draco's life again. It's becoming quite a habit. This time, however, there's actually a chance that Draco can pay him back using the beltane rituals.  
Request: Well, first off, it's Harry/Draco, you wanted that. ^_^. Also, it has plot, it's a first time fic, and has some relationship development. I hope it's IC enough. My betas seem to think so. I don't know...no Diva Draco, no whiny Harry... hope you like it.

~*oOoOo*~

 

“Get down!” Harry shouted, brandishing his wand and pushing back the crowd of Healers and Mediwizards. Three Death Eaters raced across the lawn so fast, nobody could even see their feet moving under their robes. Wands were out flashing even in the bright sunlight, casting hexes left and right as they approached. In a series of swift movements, Harry took down two of them, but not before the third raced around and caught one of the Healer-interns by surprise.

“What?” the student mouthed, reaching for his wand even as the attacker raised his in preparation to cast. To Harry, it all seemed like it moved in slow motion. First the recognition of that particular student with the platinum blond hair, pale gray eyes, and pointed chin – then the shock and gut-wrenching horror as he realized that the attacker was aimed directly at Draco – Malfoy… his Malfoy.

Draco could still see the flash of flame red from Harry's Auror robes as they whipped up while Harry's limp body tumbled to the ground.

 

~*oOoOo*~

 

“You’re a fucking idiot, Harry Potter.”

It had taken six hours. Six hours for all of those ginger-haired buffoons to clear out of Potter’s room at St. Mungo’s. He’d waited as patiently as he possibly could for visiting hours to end so he could come in here. And now that he was here…

“Tossing yourself in front of a hex like that. It’s just stupid, even for a moron with a hero-complex like you.”

Draco stood in the corner of the room, away from the view of the door. He twisted his hands in his robes, unable to look at the body of the man laying in the bed. Harry had taken the blow.

“Wasn’t even worth it, you know," Malfoy said, scuffing his shoes on the floor. "Stupid idiot throwing himself in the line of fire to protect…”

“Trash! Garbage! Filth! You’re not worthy of his admiration,” Ginny shouted as they exited the chamber where he had stood trial. “You’re lucky he’s got a big heart and is a bit addled when it comes to sentimentality, or…”

It was Harry who silenced her with a charm. Much to the astonishment of everyone, he physically pushed her back and glared at the youngest Weasley. “Don’t you dare,” he warned. “You don’t know what it’s like to live in a place like that. Where you live out every day not knowing if your so-called loved ones are ready to throw you away yet or not. You have always had your family to back you up, to stand behind you, to coddle you when you were feeling bad, and spoil you rotten with love and affection and support.”

Draco had never heard Harry say anything negative about any of the Weasels – least of all his own girlfriend. Still wearing the striped uniform of one who would be sent to Azkaban, with his hands still bound, he just stood there watching, letting the scene unfold.  
“Now, let me do my job, and you go back to the Burrow. I want to be alone tonight. We’ll talk about this later.”

Harry and Ginny had broken up a week later. Oh, he was still friends with every other one of those Weasels, but the screeching witch was gone.

Draco was in his second internship at St. Mungo’s, and being a Healer-in-training, he was afforded most of the privileges of a fully-qualified Healer. So, even though his ward was on the second floor (pediatric healing, squib testing center, and early wizarding diseases), he was allowed access to all wards even after visiting hours.

It was the only way he could have come to visit Potter without (quite literally) everybody and their brother knowing.

Not that he was actually visiting, mind you. No, Malfoy was here in a purely professional role. Although he usually treated ailments of those quite younger than Potter, he could concede that since the brat’s mental age was closer to adolescent, he could be quite at home here.

“What kind of person throws himself in front of a curse like that? It could have been anything – even the killing curse. What would you have done then? Died, I guess. Or suffered through another miracle.”

Draco finally looked up at the man on the bed and really took notice of his condition. Harry had been unconscious since he was hit, and there were no immediate signs that he might come out of it. They didn’t even know the nature of the curse he had taken, and his attacker, having been under an Imperius curse himself, couldn’t remember anything when he was taken in for questioning.

In the pale evening glow of lights that filtered in the window, Harry looked as if he had just been sleeping all this time. There were no indications that anything was wrong with him as his chest rose and fell under the long breaths of his slumber. His eyes flickered under his closed lids every now and then as if he was in the midst of a particularly exciting dream.

Stupid Potter. Stupid hero-complex. Draco huffed and sank into the chair clear across the room from the only bed. As if it would help matters, he scrubbed his hands through his hair, tousling it and then combing it back again with his fingers. “So now what?” he asked clicking his tongue. “I guess I owe you another life debt, right?”

 

~*oOoOo*~

 

For the first few weeks, Potter received visits every single day. The Weasley clan would descend upon the hospital at nine am sharp, including all extended family and Granger, and they'd stay until six pm when the Mediwitch in charge of his ward would chase them all out of the room. Every now and then, McGonagall or Shacklebolt would visit, as well - not that Draco was actually paying attention to it, mind you - and one time an old man who looked an awful lot like professor Dumbledore came to visit. He poured Harry a glass of Firewhiskey just before visiting hours were up, and set it on the table next to him.

Draco always waited for one hour after everyone left before he descended upon his unofficial patient. He would come in, check his chart for any progress, take mental note on any treatment he had been given, and then sit in that chair across the room for a few hours before doing one more diagnostic check on Harry and then heading out. Malfoy refused to think about what he was doing and why. It was just something he wanted to do, dammit, and didn't have to mean anything in particular. Potter was injured - cursed while saving his life. Malfoy worked at the hospital where Potter was admitted. It was only natural, right?

Right?

"Okay, so what do we talk about today? Since I have such a captive audience, and you're so attentive, hanging on my every word so tightly, you can't even bring yourself to interrupt?" Draco paused for a moment as if to give Harry a chance to snark back at him. "I see. You know, it's just a little disconcerting how quiet you are. I hate to say it, but I miss you fighting back."

And there was the truth, wasn't it? Draco missed him. He missed the impulsive idiot who had tormented him for the past decade plus.

"We had another burn victim come into my ward today." Draco changed the subject in his own mind in a small attempt to chase away thoughts that would be, as he saw them, entirely counter-productive. "She had apparently been practicing magic in the home, and her brother decided that Incendio would be a great first-spell. Well, apparently, the little witch was already inclined toward firemagic, and it came out a lot stronger than she expected. She promptly ignited her robes, as well as half the kitchen."

Draco sat down and fiddled with the blanket, smoothing out the wrinkles and folds mindlessly as he chattered on about treating the little girl. "It's always fire, isn't it? Saving me from the Fiendfyre, throwing yourself into the line of fire to save me? Merlin, what is making me so maudlin today?"

After a month, the visits from outside became fewer and more infrequent. Oh, Granger still visited several times a week - apparently she was convinced there was something she could do for him. (As if she could do anything when there were scores of healers working on his problem.) Even the oldest Weasley - the curse-breaker - admitted he'd seen nothing like it before.

Still, even though his annoying friends and adopted family had stopped visiting him every day, Malfoy continued his vigil. At first, he'd just go there and sit in the room, sometimes talking about the events of the day, or what he had for breakfast. Every now and then he'd toss out some insult or criticize him for being a complete moron. Then after a few weeks, he decided that sitting across the room was dumb, childish, and irrational, so he began taking the seat directly next to Potter's bed. It was the one Granger liked to sit in. The one the mothers in his ward always chose.

Harry had no visitors at all on one especially bleak day. "I reckon it must get lonely up here on days like today." He looked outside at the rain pouring down in sheets. "Not that I would have - you know - come out to see you when it's raining like this."

After a long pause, Draco sighed. "I take that back. I'd still come out here today. I don't know why they've stopped visiting you all the time. The Healers said that it could only help."

He looked down at Harry's face as he slept. He really didn't look any different than he had that one day when the curse was cast. As his chest rose and fell, a stray lock of Harry's hair slipped down past his temple, nearly into his eye. Draco gently pushed it away without a second thought. "So, they said the curse was meant for me. I wonder what sort of thing they'd want to cast on me. Why would anyone want me to sleep like this?" Of course, he knew why. He had been released. Death Eaters and victims alike wanted to see him punished one way or another. It was one of the reasons he'd accepted residency at St. Mungo's, and never left the grounds. Living in a closet-sized room in the basement wasn't the most glorious of abodes, but at least he was safe.

And he could be here in case there was any change in Harry's condition.

"I suppose I should tell you my news. Well, you know I was an intern, yeah. I mean, that was part of the reason you came to St. Mungo's - to torment me and try to make sure I had someone making my life difficult while I worked? Well, I finally passed my second internship just today. Congratulations to me. My mother sent me a note - they're letting her have some outside contact now - congratulating me." He pulled a folded bit of parchment out of his pocket and opened it, scanning the contents. "Apparently she can't really say she's proud of her only son being a working stiff, but she can say that she had no doubts that I could achieve anything I set out for. Not too bad."

Draco set the parchment on the bed and sat back in the chair. "So, there you have it. I'm a fully-qualified Healer, and have been granted a position in the second-floor ward of St. Mungo's."

The long silence in response to the good news was followed up with a deep sigh. "Can't even rub your nose in it, can I? Of course, you got your Auror's badge three months after you finished that special NEWTS session. But being a healer requires a lot more training. It's much, much more difficult to save a kid's life than it is to toss yourself in front of a curse!"

He took the parchment and put it back into his pocket then reached over and touched Harry's warm hand. "You're such an idiot."

 

~*oOoOo*~

 

Three months passed, and most of the staff and Harry's friends had given up hope. At least, they stopped running diagnostic tests and trying out new potions and spells on him. There was talk of moving him up to the fourth floor to sleep next to the Longbottoms, but Draco adamantly protested.

"If you're short on staff, I'll take care of him. My load is lighter now that Healer McDowell is up there."

Augustus Pye gave him a sideways glance as silence filled the room. "I won't pay you as a healer if you demote yourself to a Mediwizard," he said flatly.

"That's... that's fine," Draco admitted shyly. "I just think a change in environment might... you know. It won't help, at any rate."

Healer Pye, director of the ward, nodded and sent Draco to go fill out paperwork that would assign him as Harry Potter's personal Mediwizard.

 

~*oOoOo*~

 

Somehow, after being assigned to Potter, Draco had felt a closeness - a kinship to him like he'd never felt before. Harry Potter was his. Only Granger visited these days, and even then it was just once a week - on Sundays when her fiancé was off playing Quidditch. The first time they met each other, it was a shock. She couldn't believe he'd been assigned to Harry, and he couldn't believe she had the audacity to criticize him when he was the only one visiting every day.

"Every day?" she asked with a doubtful twinge in her voice.

"Yeah, every day. Since the accident. Even on the days when everyone else had forgotten about him, I was here. I talked to him. I told him... lots of things. Talked about school and the war, and how grungy he looks with his hair all messy like that. Anything to try to get a response."

Hermione's lower lip twitched. "Draco..."

"Don't. Just don't. I know what you're going to say. Yeah, it's stupid. Still, I can't help it, can I? The fucking brat saved my life again. I owe him so many times over, I don't have a life of my own anymore."

He'd expected her to snap back at him or tease him or something, but instead she just shook her head. "He is at the same time the luckiest and most unlucky man I know. He finally captures you, and he's unconscious."

Draco shot her a surprised scowl. "What the hell are you talking about, Granger?"

"You. Him. You've been his obsession for years. You know that, right? Right?" She shook her head. "Really, Draco, how dense can you be? Why do you think he defended you at your trial? Why do you think he volunteered for this mission as your guard while you were finishing up here? Why do you think he broke up with... no, never mind. Just... think, okay?"

And he did. A lot.

Especially after she left - when he was alone with Potter in the room, he thought about it. Thought about why Harry was so obsessed with saving his life and his soul around every turn. "Merlin, Potter, you could have told me," he finally huffed, raking his hair back as he paced the room. "Seriously, how long? What was it, five years now since the first time you saved my life? And you couldn't have told me?"

"Fuck," he gasped, tossing his hands in the air. "You are the stupidest!--" Draco didn't finish his thought. He went over to the bed and placed a solid kiss on Harry's mouth. "Stupidest."

And yet, Harry still slept.

 

~*oOoOo*~

 

It was three weeks later when Draco came into the room with a fresh idea and a plate of fish paste sandwiches.

Draco leaned down and kissed Potter's forehead. "The Beltane bonfires will be struck tomorrow night," he said, brushing back some hair off of the sleeping man's face. "I don’t care if you want to or not, but you’re going down there with me. Lots of magic will be whizzing about, you know. We’ve got to get you out of this place so you can go off and annoy the rest of the world again. Besides, we need this bed for someone who’s really sick, and not just faking it like like you."

Harry didn’t answer. Not that Draco actually expected him to, but still, it seemed like one of those moments when Harry ought to have flung him out of bed and wrapped his hands around Draco’s neck.  
And it just didn’t happen.

Draco set the plate of sandwiches on Harry's stomach and plucked one from the top. "You know, I've been thinking about it. Old magick type stuff. Especially the rituals of rebirth and all," he said, munching on the sandwich. Draco put his feet up on the bed next to Harry's and leaned back in what he now called his chair. "I reckon there's gotta be a chance, yeah? I mean, if nothing else has been working, maybe this will."

Augustus thought it was a long shot at best, but when Draco came to him with his proposal, he reluctantly agreed. Draco had not left St. Mungo's grounds since he arrived, and if he was willing to risk his own welfare in an attempt to cure Harry Potter, Augustus Pye was not going to stand in his way.

"I'm not s'posed to take you too near the bonfire, but I thought we could go there together and maybe something might - you know - happen? No Morris dancers, though. I refuse to dress up in those silly bells and dance around a Maypole for you. I mean, yeah, I'll go so far, but when it comes to making a right pansy of myself, I'm gonna demand a little more than a one-sided kiss."

After finishing all of his sandwiches and making sure Potter was completely in order - his sheets changed, body washed, feeding and bio-function spells in place, Draco set out to do something he hadn't done in a very long time - research.

Checking out every book that mentioned the Beltane rituals, Draco settled into his chair by Harry's bed and made himself comfortable again, propping his legs up on the bed with the tome on his lap. Some of the books were interesting enough - talking about ancient rites and Muggle myths. About how some celebrated on the solstice, and others on the first of May. Apparently it didn't matter to most people because nobody apparently believed in that old stuff anyway.

Draco read about some of the old Wiccan rituals "What? They'd burn food, thinking it would ensure a good harvest in the fall? You know, now I think I know where you got it... you were raised by these kinds of Muggles - I'm sure some of their stupidity rubbed off onto you." He looked up from the book and leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on Harry's cheek. "Don't worry, though. Even though you're an idiot, I can forgive you."

"Most of this stuff on the Muggle side suggests it's all about fertility rituals. Too bad you're not awake yet," Draco said, turning the book on its side to look at one particularly interesting drawing, "I'd like to try some of this out with you next time 'round." He was optimistic, sure. Then again, he had to be. Harry was going to live through this, and Draco would be the one to bring him out of his slumber.  
He spent half the night looking through volume after volume of ancient Magick history, not believing half of what he was reading. Then again, if this was a long shot, he might as well try bits of everything. Something ought to work, right?

 

~*oOoOo*~

 

When Beltane night came around, Draco was ready. He'd read about various rites that would exorcise demons and offer protection against evil spirits. Most involved both a written and a potions component combined with a spell to be cast on Harry as the parchment - the written part - was tossed into the fire. Another rite involved a pledge and what could most easily be described as an exorcism. That one was much like breaking an Imperius curse. Draco made all preparations for both of these rituals and spent the rest of the night getting Harry ready.

It was cool out that night, so Draco dressed Harry in some of his own clothes. "You look quite dashing, actually," he said, looking over his sleeping ward in that gorgeous black turtle-neck jumper and brown wool trousers. "I don't know who was dressing you before in those ridiculous shirts and denims, but this really is the look for you. Well, either this, or your Quidditch uniform. You know, I still have fantasies about having you submit to me wearing your red Gryffindor leathers." Draco swished his hand in the air. "Still, that's a conversation for another day. Tonight, I'm going to cure you. If one of these doesn't work, the other surely will."

The bonfires were so far out in the middle of nowhere, and Draco carried Harry through most of it. He couldn't Apparate with the chair unless he was sitting in it with his sleeping Harry cradled in his lap. Then there was the walk down into the valley where he could see some Muggle Wiccans already gathering. "Oh, and just so you know, I'm terrified. So you'd better appreciate this, sleepy-boy. Really, joining in with a Muggle ceremony like this -" Draco clicked his tongue. "You know I'm in it deep if I put up with Muggles for your sake."

Hermione had agreed to meet them there to help with the rituals. If anyone could both run interference for them and assist in this arcane Muggle magick, it would be her. As he wheeled Harry down into the valley where the bonfire was being prepared, she came running up to them, a leather satchel across her shoulders. "Don't think I've seen you in Muggle clothes before, Malfoy," she said. "Did you bring the parchments and potions?" she asked under her breath.

"Yeah, I brought them. What about you? Did you find anything else that might work?" Normally, he wouldn't have chosen to work with her under any circumstances, but he needed to try everything he possibly could. And if anyone could think of clever ways to break whatever this curse was, it was Granger.

"A couple of things," she said, nodding. "There's a fertility ritual that I think might work. The origins of the word are closer to "birth" than "fertility" and I think there might have been some sort of misunderstanding along the way that turned this into more of a sexual rite than a cleansing. And there's also a general cleansing to be done in the bonfire, itself. It involves writing your names on parchment, taking some blood, and creating a kind of protective charm, then tossing it into the fire when it's at its peak."

A crowd of, perhaps, fifty people were gathered around the large pile of wood in the valley. Some had brought picnic dinners and were relaxing on the lawn, waiting for the festivities to begin. Others were dressed in silly Muggle Wiccan robes and were chanting as they marched around, preparing for the final rituals.

Hermione led Draco and Harry to the south side of the wood pile where there was a blanket laid out on the grass. "It's best if we face north when we do this. There are advantages to facing north," she said, plunking down on the blanket. "Erm, Malfoy, I really appreciate you doing this. I mean, I know it's difficult to be out here with - well, all of us, but... well, for Harry, you know."

Draco huffed. "You speak as if this is some sort of charitable act. I assure you, Granger, my reasons are my own." Draco knelt by Harry and looked into his sleeping face. Oh, come on Potter, wake up already!

As they waited for the bonfire, Hermione made her own preparations while Draco set out his parchments and potions. They'd do the rituals one at a time, and after they were finished, they'd all Apparate back to St. Mungo's together. Of course, Draco hoped that Harry would be conscious, and they could leave the wheelchair behind when they returned. Part of him was actually counting on that, actually, and hadn't left room in the plans for any other outcome.

The Muggle Wiccans did some sort of strange ritual that involved reading poetry, greeting each other, and sharing food and drink. Then after that, one of them did some more chanting, and brought a torch to the woodpile. The crowd was mesmerized by the flames reaching up toward the night sky. They were so grand, so hot, it took Malfoy a moment to gather himself together before he snapped back to his purpose in being there. "Okay, let's try the two I have first, and if those don't work, we'll do those ones you researched."

Hermione nodded and watched as Draco began the first of the rites. It was the one that involved the potion and parchment. Writing his wishes for Potter down on the parchment inside a ring of runes, he pressed it into Harry's hands and drank half of the potion, then helped Harry take in the other half.

"Please let this work," he muttered to himself as he took the parchment back and then tossed it into the flames.

He crouched in front of Harry. He was still asleep.

"Let's try the next one," Hermione said softly. "We don't have much time."

Draco prepared for the other ritual, first chanting off a long incantation of exorcism intended to release any spirits or curses that might have taken hold of Harry. After that, it came the time for his pledge - not something he was particularly looking forward to doing with an audience present.

"Okay, Harry, listen 'cause I'm only going to say this once. I am indebted to you three times over. Time after time you've saved my life, and it's my sworn duty to return the favor. I am here, presenting myself as the one who wants to save you more desperately than anyone else, and I vow to stay with you until such a time as I can completely repay you for all you've done for me."

So it might not have been strong enough. Draco ran his fingers down Harry's sleepy face and waited for a few moments.

"Granger?" he choked. "What's next?"

They tried everything. First there was that blood ritual, and then a cleansing spell combined with some ancient earth magic. She had Draco restate his pledge, hold Harry's hand while she called upon the Goddesses to bless them, and finally (the longest shot of all), she set about with the fertility rites.

Nothing seemed to work. They sat there, watching the blaze, all avenues traveled, all options exhausted. "It's beautiful," Draco finally said, staring into the flames. "I can hear it calling me sometimes. The fire, that is. Like it wants me to go inside. It isn't as hot as the Fiendfyre, you know. Not nearly as hot. He saved me from that." Of course, Granger knew that, but Draco was rambling, exhausted from the night's events. "I think I thanked him at the time, but I was so upset about Vince, I hardly knew... no, I knew. When I was there with him on his broomstick, I felt it."

Hermione just stared into the fire. One of the Muggles dressed in robes stumbled up to them and offered them some wine. She shook her head. "Your friend is asleep?" the Muggle man asked. "You brought him here to be with you this night?"

Draco looked the man up and down as if he was insane. "I don't see how it's any of your business," he said, finally. After all, it was a lot more polite than just telling the man to shove off, as he'd like to have done.

"Dance into the fire," he sang, holding the bottle up to Harry's lips. Draco got up to chase the man off, but before he could effectively do so, the man had poured a little bit of the wine down the front of Harry's lips, chin, and shirt.

"Oi! Get off him!" Draco pushed the man away from Harry, causing more of the wine to slosh around, anointing all three of them at the same time. The drunken man seemed a little disoriented, but went off dancing and singing around to the next group, ignoring them.

Draco leaned in and began cleaning Harry up. He couldn't use magic in front of all of these Muggles, so he just wiped off as much of the wine as he could. As he touched Harry's lips, a voice echoed inside of him. Dance into the fire, it sang, Let yourself go. Let the flames dance with you and take up the hand of your partner.

He leaned down and licked some of the wine off of Harry's lips as the voices sang. A strange magic was flowing around them, holding the two of them in its embrace. Dance, dance, dance. Draco stared into Harry's sleeping face. "Dance, with the hand of my partner," he repeated. Draco pulled Harry out of the chair and held him close, then settled down on the blanket with Harry resting in his lap.

Hermione reached over and petted back some of Harry's unruly hair. Something strange had happened, but Harry was still asleep. "We'll find a way," she said softly.

Draco held Harry close to him as the fire burned down. Sometimes he'd cradle him in his arms, rocking back and forth while kissing Harry’s temple and cheek. Other times, he'd just held Harry there, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. And through it all, Harry slept.

 

~*oOoOo*~

 

They arrived back at St. Mungo's around three am. Malfoy put Potter back into his bed after cleaning him up a bit. Hermione quietly helped for a few moments, then said her good-byes and floo'd home.

When it was just the two of them in the room again, Draco felt the quiet creep in and sleep threaten him. "Improper or not, I'm not going to leave you tonight, Potter," he said as he transfigured the single bed into a double. Crawling in on one side, he pulled Harry into his arms and settled him in on his shoulder. "Good night, Harry," he said softly.

 

~*oOoOo*~

 

Draco dreamed of the Beltane bonfire and of the strange man who had come to them. He was dancing in the flames, Harry and Draco watching him as he turned and leaped.

"Come, Harry. Come and dance in the fire with me," he said as he leapt and twirled toward the flames.

Harry took a few steps forward and stopped. "I can't," he said. "I need to wake up first."

"Well, how do I wake you up? I've tried everything."

"Come here," Harry said softly. He stood before Draco and pulled off that black jumper. "Wake me up."

It took a few moments for Draco to realize what was going on. Suddenly, they were both sitting on Hermione's blanket with nobody else there. The fire burned fiercely, warming up the night - and warming their skin as layer after layer of clothing was shed. The orange glow from the flames created a halo around Harry's body, giving him the appearance of a ravenous fire spirit.

"Harry," Draco whispered just before those burning lips gently pressed against his own.

And it wasn't just lips. This dream-kiss was open-mouthed and hot. It wasn't fierce or hard, nor was it tame and chaste. It was full and tender, their tongues lapping against each other like the flames. Draco melted under the heat, falling back on the blanket and allowing Harry to cover him completely.

"I'm sorry I wasn't awake for our first kiss," Harry said after finally breaking away for a moment. He slowly kissed his way down Draco's jaw and neck. "However, I don't mind telling you I was elated when you did that. I thought my heart would burst with happiness, even though I couldn't show it."

"You... were aware?"

"I was aware of everything." Harry slowly slid his hand down Draco's torso, to his hip, and finally combed through the hair just above his groin. "I wanted so badly to talk to you. About your job - congratulations - about me, and about... everything."

Draco was quickly becoming incoherent. He felt every brush of skin against his, and when those fingers found their prize, he yelped in surprise and delight.

"You like that, do you?" Harry purred.

"Um-hum... unhh... yeah..." It was probably the most lucid dream Draco had ever had. It was in color. The sounds of the flames roared in his mind, but he could still hear every little moan, every little word Harry whispered to him as he kissed his way down.

When Harry took him into his mouth, Draco had to plunge a fist into his own mouth to keep from crying out. It was so hot, so wet, and felt so good. "Please, Harry. Please..." He didn't even know what he was begging for, just that he needed more contact. Something more intimate.

Harry was very good at what he was doing. For a moment, Draco wondered where he got that kind of experience, and with whom. After all, as far as he knew, Harry had only dated that little Weasel-witch and maybe one other girl during fifth year. Certainly nobody since then.

Then again, this was a dream. And Harry would do everything with absolute perfection in his dreams. And oh, how he did that. His tongue massaged and swirled around Draco's cock as he sucked, licking in all the right places, and dipping under his foreskin to ensure that even the most sensitive parts got their due attention. Draco never realized how good it could feel to have someone lick and suck just on the very tip, and then to take him all inside, moving up and down slowly and methodically as if to draw it all out.

After several more times bobbing his head, swiping his tongue across the tip of Draco's extremely hard cock, Harry pulled back. "You need to wake me up, Draco," he said, peering up at his lover with those bright emerald eyes. "Awaken me."

Draco pulled Harry up to his chest and claimed his mouth again. Then, rolling him over, he slid across and then down Harry's body like a snake, keeping as much physical contact as possible before stopping between his legs.

How should he go about doing this? In dreams, preparation wouldn’t be necessary, right? He wouldn’t have to go looking for lube, didn't have to stretch Harry's anus enough to fit him in. Harry would be completely relaxed - asleep - and inside, he would be moist and warm and welcoming.

Still, it wouldn't be right if they didn't share in the euphoria. Draco took Harry's cock in hand and roughly began pulling on it; fisting it with one hand and then the other and finally pulling it up toward Harry's stomach as those legs rose and rested on his shoulders.  
Words seemed entirely inappropriate at the moment Draco lined himself up and pressed into Harry. It was tight, and dry, and rough. Much rougher than he would have thought possible in a dream. He had to spit on his hand and rub it against his own cock to push the rest of the way in.

Once he was inside, though...

Harry practically screamed when he was filled. Tears streamed down out of the corners of his eyes.

"Oh God, Harry, I'm sorry," Draco said softly, leaning forward to kiss him.

"No, it's okay. Just... need to adjust a little. Stay. Stay inside."

As if Draco was going to pull out just yet. Not when he had that burning heat surrounding him. However, his cock was literally twitching with anticipation of more friction, and after a long moment, he began to move. At first, it was just a little - a few centimeters back and forth. However, as Harry adjusted to the intrusion, and after he moved a few times, the strokes became longer and more drawn out until he was settled into a steady rhythm.

The experience was so strange and ethereal. Although it was a dream, it felt so real, and every sensation was drawn out so fully, so completely that the experience was more like losing his virginity than living out some fantasy.

They made love on that blanket next to the fire for what seemed like an eternity. Harry was pulling on his own cock, jerking so hard and so fast, trying to bring himself off at the same pace Draco was thrusting into him, rubbing them both raw from the dry friction. "Draco, almost... almost there," he panted, running his free hand down Draco's chest. Harry pinched at one of Draco's nipples during the last few tugs.

And then it was over. In an explosion of pulsing heat, Draco let himself go, emptying all that he had inside of Harry. A few moments later, Harry erupted onto his own belly and chest just before Draco collapsed on top of him. They both lay there for a few moments, caught in each other's embrace, unable to move anywhere but closer in an attempt to stave off the chill that came after the intense heat faded.

Draco drew the blanket over both of them. "Harry, I'm so sorry. For everything."

Harry pressed a kiss against Draco's forehead and then nuzzled down to kiss him properly. "There's no need to apologize. You are who you are, and I am who I am. If either of us were any different, we wouldn't have this."

With a content smile, Draco sighed and snuggled in closer. He was right, of course. Harry always wasn’t he? “Insufferable git,” he mumbled as he laid another open-mouth kiss to Harry’s jaw.

A small part of Draco's mind lamented the fact that this was all a dream. Then another part of his mind wondered if it was a dream, would he recognize it as a dream, and would he remember it in the morning?

It didn't matter. Not really. He'd awakened Harry in this little un-reality, and he had the affirmation he needed to go on. "I'll still dance for you," he mumbled sleepily. "If you don't wake up in the morning, I'll keep dancing in those flames until you do."  
Harry rubbed his hand across Draco's shoulders and kissed his forehead again. "I know. Don't worry, though, I'll be there to pull you out of the fire."

~*oOoOo*~

The next morning, Draco woke to the feeling of someone shifting next to him. He thought he'd been sleeping with Harry on his chest all night, and suddenly he wasn't holding him, but they were spooned together, naked (they hadn't been naked when they'd gone to bed, had they?), with Harry pressing into Draco's back as an arm snaked across his hip. "Mmm, jus' a few more minutes," Draco mumbled drowsily. A kiss was pressed into the back of his neck.

"M'kay," Harry murmured, snuggling in close.

Suddenly, Draco's eyes flew open and he literally fell out of the bed. Harry was awake. "You're..."

Harry sleepily rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and opened them to see Draco sitting on the floor rubbing his hip where he had fallen. "Malfoy, you said a few more minutes." Harry's impossibly green eyes twinkled as a half-smile crept across his lips. "So, come here and lay with me for a few more minutes."

"You're awake," Draco said softly, creeping up to kneel next to the bed. "Are you alright? I mean, do you feel okay?" Snapping back into healer mode, Draco stood and did a few diagnostic checks on Harry, seeming to have forgotten the fact that they were both naked and covered in love-bites.

"I'm fine, just a little tired."


End file.
